Poppins
by Gorlois
Summary: Discover the family background of the Poppins. Learn about Little Mary's first trip to the clouds, and when Albert first insisted he be called "Bert", and learn about the one who inspired it all, their mother, Mrs. Poppins, the Witch of Victoria Street.
1. Prolouge: Witches of Victoria Street

If you wanted to find Victoria Street, all you had to do was ask the policeman at the crossroads. He would have given you a funny glance, but then he would shrug and give you these exact directions:

"First to your left, fourth to your right, sharp left again, and you're there. Good day."

And, sure enough, if you had followed his directions completely, you would have been there- Victoria Street.

If you had looked for Number Thirteen- which, if you were smart, you wouldn't be- you would very soon find it because, of all the brightly painted, small houses on the street, Number Thirteen was the drabbest and largest house of all. But most telling of anything, you would see the Respectable Mr. Poppins storming out of the house, whilst his Lovely wife, Mrs. Poppins, was watching on the steps with her children, Young Albert and Little Mary, behind her.

"No, no, Gregory, don't leave!" said the Lovely Mrs. Poppins.

"I'm sorry..."

"But Hattie, if I had known before that you were a…" the Respectable Mr. Poppins trailed off. By now all of neighborhood was out watching the family drama.

"Gregory, I'll stop! I won't teach the children! You don't have to leave!"

"How can I trust you, Hattie?" he asked. "We've been together for ten years, and today I just learned that you were-"

"Say it, Gregory."  
He paused, shocked at the demand.

"A witch. That's what you are Hattie. That's what our children will be!"

"No, no," she pleaded. "We don't have to teach them magic! They can be _non- magical mortal humans_!"

"Hattie… No more… No more of it, no more lies!"

"What have I done to you before this? _What_!"

"You never told the truth, you never gave me the facts. Umbrellas flying through the room, shoes walking on their own, I saw all of it! But I never knew!

"I'm leaving, Hattie," and Gregory ran away down the dark streets.

"No, no!" screamed Hattie. She ran after him, but Gregory just sped up. Hattie was sprinting, her tied bun was unraveling in front of her face, but she tripped over her skirt and fell hard onto the sidewalk. By the time she got up, Gregory was out of sight. For a second, she just sat there, dumbstruck. Then tears began to poor out from her eyes.

"Oh, god, he's gone… He's gone forever! And I'm stuck here… _Oh god!_" she wailed.

Young Albert tried to push the crying Little Mary away from the traumatic sight. But Little Mary grabbed her umbrella and nudged past her older brother. She walked down the steps, jumping off the last one, and began hovering off the sidewalk, only one foot off the sidewalk, to embrace her mother, who was sprawling on the sidewalk, fists pounding on the pavement.

"Mary!" yelled Albert.

But it was too late. All of the neighborhood had seen it. Mary had flown to her mother on a tiny children's pink umbrella. And from that moment on, no one in that family was Little, or Young, or Respectable, or Lovely. They were just the Poppins, the Witches of Victoria Street, and everyone knew it.


	2. Mrs Corry

"**Bye Mummy, Bye Mary!" called Annie and Fannie from the front of the shop.**

"**Bye girls!" called back Mrs. Corry front the cashier counter.**

**Mary, in a quieter voice, replied, "Good-bye, cousins." **

**When the room of sweet candies and pastries was entirely silent again, Mary struck up a conversation with the owner.**

"**Do you think they'll find dates tonight?"**

"**Those behemoths?" countered Mrs. Corry. She was an ancient old lady who wore a black dress and a large coat, covered with three-piece bits. "I very much doubt it." **

"**Annie and Fannie are very pretty girls, I think," said Mary. "They're much prettier than me." As far as Mary was concerned, this was true. She had a plain, freckled face, she despised her nose, and long, dark, brown hair, always tied up in a bun, hidden by a gray hat. Compared to Mrs. Corry's daughters who had bright red hair and plump bodies, Mary looked like a worthless stick of a tree, or so she thought.**

"**Miss Mary Poppins! Where ever did you get an idea like that?" exclaimed her aunt.**

"**Mother…" "My sister! I should have known!" Mrs. Corry laughed. "You mustn't pay attention to anything she says, dearie. She's too self-centered, every since your father left…"**

**Mary grimaced. Her mother still held a grudge against her for what she did that day. But she was only six! How was she to know that magic was bad? How was she to know that was why her father left? How could she have guessed what the neighbors would do after seeing her fly on that umbrella…**

"**You know, Mrs. Corry, you're not exactly very supportive of your behemoths, yourself," Mary tried to change the subject. **

"**That's different," Mrs. Corry answered. "My girls have no gumption. At least you have a little spunk."**

"**Maybe that's why Mother hates me so."**

"**No, dearie, your mother doesn't hate you. Of that I'm sure of," her aunt protested. "She just very close to Albert." **

**Albert. Her brother. Her perfect brother. Right at this moment, Mary's mother, the Witch of Victoria Street, was training her brother, Albert, to do magic. If the Poppins name was to become respectable again, it was Albert who was to do the job. But her mother was pushing Albert too hard, and Mary already sensed the strain inside him, tearing him apart. **

"**Albert… He's having trouble with magic," Mary confided to Mrs. Corry.**

"**When he was younger, he showed no signs of being talented in the magical arts, just like my girls," she replied. "But you, oh you had such a bright future as a witch!"**

"**But mother says I wouldn't be able to control my powers… 'Just let them dry up', she tells me. 'I won't miss them'."**

"**Which is why you're so lucky that you have me!" squealed her aunt. The little old woman scurried from her place behind the counter and opened a drawer, filled with golden paper stars.**

"**These," she said, "will be your lesson today."**

"**A new magic lesson!" exclaimed Mary. "I've been dying to do one!"**

"**Well, I try to find one every year for you to do with me. It's not much, but at least it will keep your powers from 'drying up'." **

"**So, tell me what we're doing!" urged Mary.**

"**We're going to be pasting these stars to the sky!"**

"**Explain that again," Mary asked, quite confused. **

**Mrs. Corry looked annoyed. "Your mother has really left you uneducated…" She continued, "All the stars in the sky, all the constellations, are just golden pieces of paper, glued to the background."**

"**How curious!"**

"**Come on," said Mrs. Corry walking closer to the door, "Grab a ladder, spit-spot!"**

**Mary went to the inventory room in the back of the Bakery Shop. She grabbed the tallest ladder she could find, and, awkwardly, while also carrying a large carpet bag, she walked to the front door of the shop where her aunt, the owner of the store, waited with the golden pieces of paper and her own bag. **

"**Here now, we're closed for the rest of the evening," the little woman said, turning the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED".**

"**Why do you do that, auntie, if no one comes here?" questioned Mary. She had seen her do it, hundreds of times before, but never thought to ask. **

"**Well, we witches have to keep up appearances." Mary realized Mrs. Corry was just like her sister, Mrs. Poppins. No matter how much the two disagreed, it was true. They agreed on the simple things, like witches keeping up their appearances. And even though her aunt favored Mary, she couldn't deny that Mrs. Corry liked her better than anyone, even her own children. Mrs. Poppins favored Albert more than anyone. The only difference was Albert didn't like the attention he got, and Mary did. Maybe it was because it was **_**her mother**_** that didn't like her, maybe she was so hurt, she'd take love from anyone, she was desperate for love. Still, it was undeniable that Albert loved her. And Mary loved Albert. That must be another reason Albert didn't like the attention he received from their mother, because he saw the pain it caused Mary. **

**On the other hand, Mary soaked up the attention from Mrs. Corry, while her cousins got even less love from **_**their**_** mother than their cousin did. How awful Annie and Fannie must feel. All because of Mary. She couldn't feel sorry for herself. She shouldn't be so greedy for attention. She'd have to change that. If no one loved her, she should at least learn to love herself. Maybe a witch should keep up appearances, but for themselves? **

**But tonight she was going to have fun.**

**When the elderly woman and the young girl reached a small grassy clearing in the middle of a park, they stopped. Obviously, this was where Mrs. Corry wanted to perform their magical task.**

"**Here," she said. "Put the ladder here, dearie."**

**Mary followed her aunt's command and unfolded the ladder. **

"**Now you keep it stable while I climb up there," she said. "I'll show you how to do this, and then it will be your turn."**

**Mrs. Corry hobbled up the ladder with her black skirt on. "Lookie here, dearie!" she called down. Mary couldn't believe how high up her Aunt was, higher, Mary thought, than the ladder actually was. Did witchcraft make it taller?**

**Mrs. Corry dipped a wide brush in a pale of paste, which had been hidden in the carpet bag she had brought back from the shop with her, and she spread the paste on the back of the golden paper. Then she stuck the star on the black sky.**

"**Oh, isn't it lovely, dearie!" Mrs. Corry stood back to admire her work. For Mary, she couldn't tell that there was any difference in the sky… Except maybe one star looked a little bit brighter than all the others…**

_**Yip! Yip! Yip! **_

**Mary spun around, surprised at the alien noise, and accidentally letting go of the ladder. **

"**Woah! Woah! Don't let go, Mary!" yelped Mrs. Corry. **

**Mary stuck one hand back on the ladder, but looked down to see a little Yorkshire Terrier looking up to her.**

"**Oh Andrew! What are you doing here?" asked Mary.**

_**Arf! Arf! Waf! Yip! Arf! Yip! Yip! **_

"**Slow down, Andrew," Mary pleaded. "I'm not very fluent in your language."**

_**Arrrrrf! Arrrrf! Waaaaf! Yip! Arrrrf! Yip! Yiiiiip! **_

"**Oh my!" she exclaimed. "Really? Are you sure?"**

**The dog seem to shake his head "yes".**

"**Oh, dear! I must see Albert! Where did you say he went?" **

_**Waf! Arf! Yip! Yip! **_

"**My uncle?" she asked. "My Uncle Albert!"**

_**Yip! Yip!**_

"**Oh, dear! Thank you for telling me, Andrew," Mary said. "Now go off home, now, Andrew! Your mummie must be terrified."**

**The little dog trotted off down the street. Mary looked back up.**

"**Auntie, Mrs. Corry, I must go!" Mary yelled to the woman in the skies, pasting on stars.**

"**I heard, Mary," she replied. "You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine.**

"**You go see your brother, we'll finish this lesson tomorrow!"**

"**Oh, thank you! Thank you!"**

**Mary ran off from her Aunt, and down the streets of dark London. **

**This couldn't be good. **


	3. I Love to Laugh!

**I am really terrible with jokes so I had to use these websites for Uncle Albert's puns and stories:**

**e-jokes and badpets **

**Hope you enjoy the chapter! **

**CHAPTER THREE: I LOVE TO LAUGH **

By the time Mary reached the home of her Uncle Albert, she was out of breath from running. She hadn't flown in years, but those distant memories of clutching one sprawled umbrella and hovering mid-air always cheered her up when she was sad or in a bad mood.

Mary didn't bother to knock, and simply burst into the house. She expected a disaster zone, because, from what Andrew had told her, her mother had left with a bang, and she was surprised and greatly relieved to find a light-hearted scene. Her brother and uncle were enjoying a nice cup of tea on the ceiling.

On the ceiling!?!

"Albert! Albert!" she called. "What in the world are you doing up there?"

"Oh, ho, ho! It's my sister, Mary!" gasped Albert between giggles. "Mary, come join us! It's delightful!"

"Albert, how did… How did you two get up there? How did this happen!"

"Oh, unc," began Albert, "oh, you'll have to tell her. You tell such good stories!"

"Right, I'll do," returned his namesake. "But first we have to get _her_ up _here_!"

"Well, tell her some jokes, Albert!"

"Oh, oh, yes! That I'll do!"

Now, are there any good ones in particular, Bert, she might enjoy?" quizzed Uncle Albert.

"Bert?" asked Mary from below.

"Oh, Mary, we'll explain that when you get up here! Just, just you wait!" Albert couldn't say anything with laughing. "Uncle, tell her a joke!"

Mary braced herself for what she was sure was to be a truly awful joke. Her mother told stories of how bad Uncle Albert's jokes were. Mrs. Poppins always characterized him as a nuisance, and Mary wondered why she had given her brother's name to her son.

"Aha!" it seemed like he had an idea. "Here, listen Mary, my dear!"

I knew a man who once got into an accident and went to the hospital. He screamed, 'Doctor, doctor, I can't feel my legs!', and the doctor replied, 'I know you can't, I justcut off your arms!'. Uh, ho, ho, ho!"

The two Alberts kept laughing and laughing. Mary could hardly bear it.

"Uncle Albert," she said, "that was terrible!"

"Oh, well, my dear, maybe you need a little something to lighten you up!"

I have a little tea in the kitchen."

"I'll try that," Mary told him. "Really, I am desperate to get the full story here."

While the two creatures on the ceiling continued to exchange jokes, Mary fumbled through her uncle's cluttered kitchen to find the teapot and teacups. She poured a little and then sipped it. Too strong.

"Uncle Albert! Do you have any sugar?"

"Uh, yes, I believe I do!" Albert answered. "There's some in the cabinet, I believe. You're very," he broke out into a laugh. Mary could hardly stand it anymore. She wondered why she didn't just go home and ask her mother about the ordeal.

"You're, you're, you're very welcome to it."

Mary went forward to the cabinet and searched for some the sugar, until a bottle labeled "RUM PUNCH" caught her eye.

Rum punch… Her weakness.

Mary couldn't control herself. She grabbed the bottle, unplugged the cork, and sipped the sweet juice.

"Mmmm…"

_HICCUP! _

Now she was prepared for any of Uncle Albert's atrocious jokes.

"Uncle Alllllllbert!!!! I'm in a light mooood now!"

_HICCUP!_

Albert, her brother, looked down at her. He knew she hadn't taken any tea. And he knew she only hiccupped when she had alcohol.

_HICCUP! _

"Good dear, you sound like you're in the mood now!" said her uncle. "Do you remember Mary, when I went to Australia?"

_HICCUP!_

"Uh, huh, yes Uncle!" Mary was still drinking from the bottle, which the Alberts on the ceiling couldn't see.

"Well do you know what they call a boomerang that doesn't work?"

"What?"

"A stick!"

_AHA HA HA HA!_

_AHA HA HA HA!_

Now everyone in the room was laughing, even stern Mary. And she was floating, too.

_HICCUP!_

"Ha, ha! That was quite good, I must say," bragged Uncle Albert. "Here's a better one!

Where do you find a dog with no legs?"

"Well, I don't think I know," replied Mary's brother.

"Right where you left him!"

_OH, HO, HO, HO!_

_HA, HA, HA!_

That was the joke that had done the trick. Mary was now floating next to her Uncle and her brother at the tea table.

_HICCUP!_

"Now that I'm here," said Mary through giggles, "tell me _HICCUP! _what happened with Mother, _Bert_."

"Oh, yes, yes, Mary, I'll do that, I promise, just let me get pass this laughing fit!" her brother struggled to say. Mary was fine with this requirement. The punch had _really _done the trick.

_HICCUP!_

"Ho, ho, I'm ready, Mary," Bert said, his face slowly looking solemn again. "Today mother decided we take a visit to Uncle Albert, here," he said, pointing to their uncle. "And so, like always, I had to abide by her command."

You know Uncle Albert, it really has been forever since we've seen you!" her brother inserted.

"Albert, back to the story," Mary pleaded, while slurring her words.

_HICCUP!_

"You mean Bert."

"Yes, yes, _Bert_," Mary took another sip from the bottle.

He nodded, "Anyway, when we arrived he told the funniest story about the Austrian alps, and then he began showing off some of the 'new small talk', and well, I just couldn't contain myself," Bert began to laugh.

"Mmmhmm," Mary cleared her throat, to get Bert to pay attention.

_HICCUP!_

"Uh, uh, yes… Then I began to float, and so did Uncle Albert here, and well… Mother became quite upset, saying we were putting on a spectacle, and she stormed out… And well, Mary, I've made a decision."

_HICCUP!_

Mary tried to regain herself, "And, um, what is that ex_HICCUP!_actly?

Bert began to laugh at his sister's tipsy-ness.

"Ha, ha… Well, I'm sick of Mother controlling me! It's to be no more Mary! And I'm no longer going to be Albert, either, like Mother likes. I'm Bert, for now on, and I'm going to do what Uncle Albert did when he was our age!"

"And what exactly did he do when he was our age?" Mary played with the kettles and silverware on the table.

"Everything! He was a screever, a hot chestnut vendor, a one-man band, a kite seller, a safari guide, an explorer in Egypt, musician…"

"Don't forget chimneysweep," added Uncle Albert. "Ah, there's no luckier man than a chimneysweep!"

"But Alber-," Mary stopped herself, "_Bert_, what of mother? She expects you to make the Poppins name respectable again. She wants you to be a witch!"

"Ah, Mary, you know I can't do that stuff…," Bert told her. "Yes, sometimes I _do _get something, but I'm just not as talented as you. And without me, mum will have no choice but to teach you magic!"

"Me, learn _HICCUP! _magic? You really think Mother would allow it?"

"She'd have to Mary," he reassured her. "Someday we'll be seeing you flying in the skies. You'll make both the name Poppins _and_ magic respectable here."

"But you'd be giving up so much!" Mary exclaimed.

"No I wouldn't, I'd be gaining so much!"

Mary looked at her brother for a moment. He was going to happy. She was going to be happy. How could this go wrong for them?

_HICCUP! _

"Okay, we can do this!"

"Oh, how lovely!" shouted Uncle Albert. "Everyone's happy!"

Now for some more jokes and more tea!"

"Yes, yes," Bert and Mary concurred.

"Ooooh, can you believe it's only eleven o'clock?" questioned Uncle Albert.

"Eleven o'clock!" stated Mary, with a terrified look on her face. What would her mother think? She couldn't make another mistake now! She had to be perfect for her mother. At least practically perfect.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But I must _HICCUP! _go."

Now how do I get down?"

"Really, you must go? Well, that's plenty enough to get down…"

"What?" asked Mary.

Bert answered, "Unc explained to me earlier that when you're sad, you go down, and it's certainly sad to see you leave," he said, drooping, too.

At first, Mary stayed in place. She was happy to be leaving! But seeing the sad frowns of her Uncle and her brother, she couldn't help to feel sad as well. Soon, all their feet touched the carpeted floor.

"Here, Uncle Albert, thank you," Mary said, hugging him tight.

"Oh, I hope you had a good time, my dear."

"Oh, I _HICCUP! _did. And good-bye, Bert, I hope to see you soon," she added, embracing her brother.

"Aow, dearie, 'ave a good toime," Bert told her.

"What was that?" Mary Poppins asked.

"My new accent, whado ya think?"

"You could tell that it was a fake a mile away. Work on it," Mary laughed, and her feet left the ground.

"Oh no, I don't!" and she pulled herself back to the floor with her heavy carpet bag.

Mary turned towards the door, and gave one last look at Albert and Bert.

"Good _HICCUP! _bye, boys."

"Good bye Mary," they returned.

And with that Mary walked out of the door, leaving old friends, and entering a new life.


	4. Mrs Poppins

**Sorry it took so long to update. School and all that, you know. But that's over and I intend to finish this story!**

**CHAPTER FOUR: MRS. POPPINS**

It was the second Tuesday and for Mary Poppins that meant it was her day off. She had received her wages her wages the day before and was on her way to her mother's. Their family had remained at Number Thirteen on Victoria Street for years, but she couldn't say the same for their neighbors. After the incident, families began to leave the quiet little town, one by one.

It was startling to Mary, how not far away was the cheerful world of the Wells and their children, where everyone loved one another, and everything was happy and full of life. Here were untended gardens and lawns, and tall ghostly manors. What a contrast.

When Mary came to the tallest, darkest house of all, she walked up the small steps, carrying her carpet bag and umbrella, and knocked on the door. It magically opened and Mary stepped inside.

What she saw was a disaster zone.

Chair cushions were strewn about, periodicals cluttered the floor, and lamps were missing their shades. Mary was immediately distressed.

"Mother! Mother! Where are you? Are you okay?"

Mary raced about the house, looking for her spiny mother. She froze in her steps when she heard the creaky steps of someone walking down the staircase.

"Mary, collect yourself."

Mrs. Poppins appeared before her daughter in a gray skirt, with a cape at the back. She wore navy blue high heels, with little bows on the ends and satin gloves on her hands. Her face was chilly, like ice with her rep lips creating a stern expression below her blue eyes. Her hair was formed in a bustle fashion, and to Mary it seemed that under that great weight she'd untie it, and choose a simpler fashion, less painful.

"Mother, what happened here?" asked Mary.

"This is a new practice for you," her mother told, striding into the living room, as if nothing was amiss.

"Well, then what? What do you want me to do?"

"When you are a mistress with your own mansion," explained Mrs. Poppins, "you will find this attribute necessary when your husband, being the barbarian that he naturally is, invites associates to your home, without speaking first to you, when it's an absolute mess. This little trick cleans your home."

"Whatever little trick this is, I think I could find it useful in my job as a governess."

Mrs. Poppins cracked a condescending smile. "You're job as a governess. Oh, I can't wait until we can get you out of the job. I just had you put there so you could see how high society acts, beyond my examples.

"Oh, yes… I almost forget. Your pay?"

Mrs. Poppins put her hand out, waiting for Mary to hand her the cash. Mary slowly moved towards her and gave her mother the currency.

"Good, good," said Mrs. Poppins, counting it.

"Now, mother, the spell?"

"The trick!"

Mary forgot. Words relating to witchcraft should not be spoken in the Poppins home.

"It's quite simple," Mrs. Poppins went on. "All you have to do is concentrate on whatever you want cleaned or fixed and you snap."

Mrs. Poppins rubbed her long fingers and red painted fingernails together.

_SNAP!_

All the magazines magically picked themselves up and made a neat little stack.

"How splendid!" exclaimed Mary.

"Now you try. First the marbles on the floor."

Mary stared at the marbles, and then snapped her fingers. They all rolled into a crystalline bowl on a small table.

"Good job," said Mrs. Poppins coldly.

Mary was too excited to care about her mother's mood. She snapped her fingers again and fixed the cushions, and then some cracked China, and an upturned globe. In a second she was finished, and the room was spotless.

Mrs. Poppins slowly clapped at her daughter's achievement.

"Albert could never do that…" Mrs. Poppins was impressed by her daughter's works, even though she hid it. Mary realized this, and it made her very content, for a moment.

"Now, Mary, there's something I want to speak to you about."

"Yes, Mother."

Mrs. Poppins had seated herself on a large blue loveseat in the middle of the room. Mary followed behind her.

"You have been working very hard for me this past year, and you have done more than Albert ever could. I think you're ready to attend a social gathering, a ball of sorts. It's time to introduce you to higher society, time to find you a husband."

"A husband?" asked Mary. Her mother had changed her in many ways, but she wasn't sure she wanted to become married. She preferred living alone, she was fine keeping close friends, but someone as intimate as a husband? Ugh…

"Yes, a husband!" Mrs. Poppins seemed to lighten up. She didn't like men because of what happened so many years ago, but she saw marriage as a stepping stone to a better life. Mary didn't agree, she wanted to live life independently.

"I have a beautiful dress for you, too."

"A dress!" Mary face was bright with excitement. Her mother had taught her the importance of being beautiful at all times, vanity really, but Mary wanted to be beautiful too.

"Yes, it's upstairs in the attic. I'll show you." Her mother stood up from the chair and traveled back up the stairs, Mary following in submission.

The staircase was very long, and the trip up was awkwardly quiet to Mary, but Mrs. Poppins seemed to enjoy the silence. Mary was relieved when they came to the cobweb covered door. Mrs. Poppins walked inside and unlocked a large wooden chest.

"It's vintage," she said as she pulled it out.

The dress was long, and mostly white, covered with furry ruffles. It had a large black and white bow, just above the heart, and another bow at the hips and legs. The dress seemed very snug, but it looked so pretty.

"Oh, my it's beautiful mother!" said Mary, rubbing her fingers to the cloth. "Oh, when's the ball?"

"This Sunday."

"Fantastic!" Mary replied. "What's this?" she asked, pointing at a ruffled satin umbrella.

"It goes with the gown," Mrs. Poppins answered. "It's very nice."

"May I try the gown on?"

"No, I think not. You must go now."

"What?" asked Mary. "But I only just got here and this dress-"

"Please, Mary, go."

Mary Poppins was very disappointed at this, but she did as her mother told her, fearful of angering her. Instead when she was outside, she lifted her umbrella up, and flew towards the heavens, her favorite "trick", leaving her mother alone in the attic.

There Mrs. Poppins threw the dress to the dusty floor, and went scavenging to the bottom of a chest for a broken picture frame, containing a photograph of her, in the pretty gown, next to a tall, dark haired man.

"My dear Gregory," she sobbed, clutching it to her chest.

Mrs. Poppins stayed in the attic the rest of the day, reminiscing about her former groom.


	5. Sister Suffragette

**CHAPTER FIVE: SISTER SUFFRAGETTE**

Clouds are not much more than large collections of mist in the sky. But mist is mysterious. Mist forebodes something, not necessarily evil, but rarely anything pleasant. On the other hand, a white cloud in a sunny, summer sky is the epitome of cheeriness and fun. Clouds at night are not that much different, except they become invisible. Nonetheless, if you were to find yourself relaxing on a night cloud, you'd find it irresistibly pleasant. Mary Poppins certainly did when she found herself in one, after disembarking from her mother's home.

The night sky above a sleepy town is peaceful and calm, very different from other cities that clog their starry nights with smog. It is easiest to think in a calm environment, which is why Mary so adored this place. She lay still over the vapors, and rested her umbrella beside her, keeping the handle tight. Clouds are normally soft, but towards night they become wispier and wispier. Only the strongest survive the night, and by morning they are often tiny fragments of their former, giant selves.

The cloud Mary had chosen tonight didn't have much time left, maybe twenty minutes or so. But it was the most convenient cloud, as you usually sink into the middle of the really massive clouds, and the tinier clouds can hardly support you. Mary felt like one of the characters in a story she told her charges, looking for the perfect resting spot. Not too large, not too small. But the perfect one, like in the story, would eventually break apart, too.

The Wells children simply loved Mary's bedtime stories. Sure, they were old fables and fairy tales, but occasionally their governess would sneak in an original story of her own invention. Stories like mice living in the local theatre, or of a world apart, inhabited by wondrous and nearly extinct creatures. Simple stories, too, like one about a girl and a garden, and a courageous dog. The children enjoyed these stories just as well, and were convinced that they were among the other popular tales their friends knew, too.

Mary giggled at their child qualities. If only she possessed the magic to take them into those stories, as well. She had begged her mother to teach her this magic ability, but her mother dismissed her, saying that the talent was not necessary for married life.

Alber…Bert had told Mary dreadful stories about their mother's matchmaking. But Bert had steered clear of any such unions. Unlike Mary, he was open to the subject of marriage… at least to a girl more down to earth, very different from the women Mrs. Poppins introduced him to. That is he did, a year ago. Mary hadn't seen her brother since that night in Uncle Albert's house- a place Mary now vowed never to go to again. Mary wasn't exactly snooty, but she did despise the mood that came over her there. A complete lack of awareness for her surroundings and self. Sure, her mother had implanted this idea in her head, but she was probably right. Mary didn't think herself strong enough to go over there, without losing a little control. It was fun, but fun wasn't her now.

No, high society is reserved. They show little emotion, and that's what Mary was being taught to do. She felt like she could only be herself around the children. Everywhere else she had to put on a mask. She so missed Mrs. Corry, who was the only engaging person Mrs. Poppins allowed Mary to meet. But Mrs. Corry was trying to bond with her daughters again, and Mary didn't want to intrude on their relationship, when they were coming so close to perfection. A perfect mother/daughter relationship Mary could never hope for with Mrs. Poppins.

The tiny cloud had formed into a tiny seat for Mary, and soon it would be nothing. It was then that Mary spotted a petite kite, in the middle of the night sky.

"Why the devil would anyone fly a kite at night?"

Intrigued, Mary took the umbrella she had been clutching for sometime now, and unfurled it, to take a closer look at the queer little toy.

"Mary Poppins! I was getting a perfectly fine rest, and now up we go! How terribly inconsiderate!" said the parrot on the umbrella handle.

"I'm sorry, but you knew you wouldn't get a long rest."

"Well, I bloody well could have had a few minutes!"

Mary pursed her lips and gave him a sharp look, but this didn't deter the little chatterbox.

"So, where are we off to?" he asked.

"Do you see that small kite over there?" Mary answered, pointing. "I want a closer look at it."

"Why the devil would anyone fly a kite at night?"

"That's what I said."

Now Mary and the umbrella had reached an appropriate distance from the play-thing to get a good look at it.

"Why, it's covered with shards of glass! See how it sparkles! Who could have had the genius to build that?"

"Mary?"

"Yes."

"Did you notice," began the parrot, "that there is no wind tonight?"

"You don't suppose it's Bert, do you?"

"From what I knew of him, he was proficient enough to make a breeze on a still day or night."

"Then let's go down!"

"No! No! Wait, Mary!"

But it was too late. With little grace or ease, Mary Poppins landed from the sky in the middle of what could have been a crowded park. Luckily, she landed behind a couple, their eyes being transfixed on the shiny toy.

From behind Mary could tell that the kite was being operated by a tall man with dark hair, and less than worldly clothes. Next to him was a small blonde lass, who in direct contrast, wore fairly nice and obviously expensive garments.

Mary walked up and tapped the young man on the shoulder. "Aow Cynthia, you wont a try?" he said, turning around at the same time. "My, my, it's Mary Poppins!"

Mary could see behind the soot-smudged face, that the eyes belonged to her brother, Albert.

"Oh, Bert!" she exclaimed taking hold of him. "It's so nice to see you!"

"And it's lovely to see you, too," he answered. His accent hadn't improved at all in the year. "Allow me to introduce you to Cynthia, my fiancé!"

"Oh, she's beautiful, Bert!" And indeed she was. The young woman in the pale blue dress had light blonde hair, tied in a bun. She had bluish green eyes, like gems, and tiny freckles dominated her blushing cheeks.

"It's very nice to meet you, Miss Poppins," said Cynthia, taking Mary's hand. "How, do you do?"

"How, do you do?" Mary returned.

"Miss Poppins is a close pal of mine, some years back."

"A close pal?" Mary questioned. "Why Bert, I'm your sis-" Mary could tell by the expression on her brother's face that he didn't want his girlfriend to know that Bert came from a wealthy background.

She reformed her sentence. "I'm _practically_ your sister."

"So are you for ladies' rights as well. Bert so supports the cause, like myself."

"Ladies' rights… Why I haven't thought about it a great deal, I suppose…"

"Well, as a lady you should!" replied Cynthia. "I know I won't be content treated as a second class citizen in my own country! That's what I love about Bert so much, we're equals."

"Yes, indeedie, we are," added Bert.

"Why, I'm so happy for you," said Miss Poppins, slightly befuddled by this new concept.

"So tell me what's going on for you, down on Victoria Street," interjected Bert.

"Oh, well, Mother's taking me to a ball… she wants me to find a husband… as soon as possible."

"How exciting," said Cynthia, begrudgingly.

"Honestly, I don't want to get settled down with a husband. Yes, I loved to live a respectful life, but not at the sake of my happiness."

"Well, Mary," Bert said, stepping up as a brother, and slowly losing his masquerade accent along the way, "you don't have to do everything your mother says. You can still be your own person. I thought that was your plan, anyway."  
Bert was right. Over the past year, Mary had lost bits and pieces of herself, infused with her mother's ideas. She believed she'd never get these pieces back.

"Ohhh! Bert!" she hugged him one more time. "Well, I must be going… It was absolutely charming to see you again Bert, and meeting you Cynthia."

"Are you sure you must leave so soon? Wouldn't you like to look at the Bert's kite with us?"

"Oh, no. I'm a governess, and if I don't arrive soon at my employer's home, they won't allow me back in," Mary replied, laughing in a light hearted mood. "Good-bye," she said one last time before leaving.

"Good-bye, good-bye!" returned the couple.

Mary decided to walk the rest of the way home, rather they awake her snoring umbrella. She had a lot to think about. Her brother, her mother, herself… But when sleep approaches, serious matters rarely are significant. So, like a zombie she walked herself to the Wells' house, unaware of the heated argument taking place in the family den, and into her small, private bedroom, where she quickly fell on the bed, and went asleep.


	6. Let's Go Fly a Kite!

**This chapter has ended up being the longest one (and it's all about Bert!), but rest assured, this won't be the last chapter! **

**CHAPTER SIX: LET'S GO FLY A KITE**

"Repeat after me, 'I… ah… uh… Sir, may I ask what your last name is?"

Bert stammered. What was he to say? "Uh, um… Burlington! Bert Burlington's me name!"

"Bert Burlington?" questioned the Priest. "You're not from Bow, are you?"

"No… no… My folks just had a sense of humor!" he laughed.

"Hmm…" The Priest took out a stopwatch from his pocket. The time was ten thirty on the dot. "Well, repeat after me, 'I, Bert Burlington take you…?"

"Winifred Cynthia Dunstham."

"Winifred Cynthia Dunstham, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward…"

"I, Bert Burlington, take you Winifred Cynthia Dunstham, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward…"

"For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part."

"For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part," Bert repeated.

The priest relayed the vows to Cynthia, with much more ease. Then he said,

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

And there, alone in a small chapel in the streets of London did Bert Burlington dip Winifred Cynthia Dunstham-Burlington where they embraced in their first kiss as a married couple, only in front of the eyes of God and the priest. Then they ran out of St. Peter's Chapel, onto its cold, stone steps, out in front of the dirt-ridden streets, where they embraced in what was possibly the warmest kiss they had ever took part in, this time in front of Londoners, just walking through the streets. The couple then took off down the sidewalk.

"Now that's what I call spur of the moment!" laughed Bert, referring to his wife's hopes earlier that morning that they should do something spontaneous. "Are you happy, now?"

"Oh, quite!" replied Cynthia, happily leaning on Bert's chest. "I love you!"

"I love you too, dear."

"Oooh! I want to shout it to the world! I'M MARRIED TO BERT, WORLD! BERT!" she exclaimed. "Let's go tell my parents, shall we?"

"Shall we?" questioned Bert. "Shall we not…"

"Why?"

Bert just looked at her, forcing Cynthia out of her fantasy world. Bert was a chimney-sweep, a kite salesman, an artiste… No professions agreeable with her parents' palates. They had met the young man many times, and they had been somewhat friendly, at least her father had been. But they had no idea how serious their relationship was. If they had known, Cynthia wouldn't have been allowed to see Bert anymore. They had been very good at hiding their relationship. But Cynthia didn't want to do that now.

"Oh… Bert, I'm proud of you, I love you, and I couldn't imagine loving anyone else. I want my parents to recognize our relationship."

"Well, it's your decision," Bert said, allowing his wife's suggestion. "Let's go."

And as man and wife, they walked together to the formidable force that was Mister and Mistress Dunstham. Along the way, Cynthia asked a question of Bert she had often thought of, but had never dared asked.

"Bert… what is your family like?"

Bert thought for a second. Obviously he couldn't mention the magical aspect of his family tree, but it shouldn't hurt to give his lawfully-wedded-wife descriptions of his family.

"My mother, is a rigid, demanding person, whom without, I never would have met you."

"How so?"

"Her methods eventually drove me away, out to live on the streets," he explained.

"How awful! Why have you never told me of this?"

"It's not that bad, honestly. I learned more about the world when I was living it, rather than when I was out there, with my mother, learning about a mock version of it.

"My sister," he continued, "was neglected by my mother her entire life… when really she was more suitable for my mother's lessons."

"But your mother sounds like a horrid woman… How could your sister learn anything good from her?" Cynthia questioned.

"My sister has the kind of inner strength which, I think, could turn that mockery world into a real, true, living, breathing thing. My sister is just that powerful…"

"What? Is she as dreadful as your mother?"

"Well, she's certainly not dreadful, she's a lovely person. But she did inherit my mother's demanding, hard-working, even rigid qualities. But she's tapped into them so, that they are warm, irresistible traits…"

"Well, who else is there in your family? What of your father?"

"Ha, ha… My father," Bert laughed at the awkwardness of the query. "Well, my father left my mother when me and my sister were very young. I don't remember much about him, but I remember my mother always loved him, long after he left us. I suspect she still does now."

"You don't keep in touch?"

Bert shook his head, no.

"Poor Bert."

They remained silent like that until they reached Cynthia's parents' doorsteps.

The manor was pretty and quaint, with white siding and purple rooftops. There were excitable wild-flowers growing among the gravel sidewalk and along their picket fence. The manor's appearance made a very clear statement, no matter how false it was: the family living here is respectable and happy, very happy.

With great courage Bert stepped up, and grasped the knocker attached to the door, timidly beating the door. A minute passed and nobody came, and once again Bert beat upon the entry-way. No one came, and he tried yet again. By this time Cynthia was becoming quite annoyed and she picked up the knocker herself, and beat upon the door rapidly and with force. This time, the call was answered.

"Why, Miss Dunstham, your parents have been looking for you," said the stately butler. "Come in, at once," he said, ushering the girl into the manor. Then he noticed Bert, standing there like a sore thumb, waiting for someone to welcome him in, despite his dirty clothes.

"Ah, Mr. Bert," he said. "Always a pleasure to see you, do come in."

Bert entered the room, and the butler shut the door behind him.

"Where's Mummy and Daddy?" asked Cynthia.

"On the patio, Miss," the butler replied.

Cynthia took Bert's arm and walked with him to the patio, which was filled with wicker furniture. Cynthia saw her parents sitting in two of the seats, tall, and bald, Mr. Elias Dunstham, and relatively short and stout, Mrs. Pamela Dunstham. Mrs. Dunstham was the one to worry about as she was stubborn (so much so that she refused to call Cynthia by her middle name, even though that was the one her daughter and husband preferred) and probably wouldn't accept the union, at least not immediately. Mr. Dunstham already adored Bert, and while he may be upset that the couple hadn't asked his permission for them to marry, Cynthia was confident that he would be accepting, as long as his daughter was happy.

"Ah! Winifred!" exclaimed Mrs. Dunstham when she saw them, completely disregarding the lengthy, and out of place Bert beside her. "We have someone we want you to meet!"

She stood up and took her daughter's hand in hers and directed her in front of a young man sitting on the loveseat, with dark hair and a budding mustache. "This, my dear, is Mr. George Banks!"

"It's very nice to meet you, Miss Dunstham," said the obviously shy young man.

"Your father works with him at the Bank. He's very up-and-coming," stated her mother, smiling with out of place pride.

"Ha, ha, very nice to meet you, Mr. Banks," Cynthia struggled to say, embarrassed by the obvious match-making that was taking place. "Uh, um, I'm sorry to say this, but I'm afraid I have something important… and personal to tell my parents…"

"Oh, ah, of course…"

"Oh, Winifred, anything you have to tell us will be perfectly safe among Mr. Banks's ears," replied Mrs. Dunstham, nonchalantly.

"Ahem… I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to exit the room for the time being," interjected Mr. Dunstham. Mrs. Dunstham sighed under her breath.

"Sorry for the inconvenience," called Cynthia as he was stepping out.

"Oh, it's nothing, Miss Dunstham…" said George Banks.

He shut the door behind him, and when the room was quiet, Mrs. Dunstham asked, "Well, if this is so personal, then why does Bert stay here?"

"Because, Mother, it's a personal matter of _his_,_ too_."

"Hmph!"

"You see," Cynthia began, "Bert and me… Bert and I… Well, you see, um…"

Her groom stepped in.

"Cynthia and I were married this morning."

"What?" asked Mrs. Dunstham in disbelief. Mr. Dunstham remained quiet, but just as shocked as his mate. "You did what?"

"We were married, Mother," added Cynthia.

"You were married, Winifred! How could you do this!? Why did you do this!? Married a common street-person like_ Bert_! This, Bert!"

"This Bert, this street-person, is my husband, Mother, whether you like it or not!"

"Whether I like it or not?" questioned Mrs. Dunstham. She stood out her wicker seat. "Oh, Winifred, you better love this man, because this shameless act shall ruin your life! I swear it!"

"She's Cynthia, Mrs. Dunstham, not Winifred," Bert said, sternly, protecting his wife.

"Insolent little thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Dunstham, slapping the chimney-sweep across the face.

"Pamela!" shouted Elias, at his wife's outburst, finally standing up, both physically and metaphorically. He quickly returned back to his seat, however, and straightened his tie. "Now I suggest, we all sit down and discuss this thing out, calmly."

Mrs. Dunstham just shook her head. "Out! Out! You little, runts! Get OUT!!!"

The couple ran out of the patio, hand-in-hand, Cynthia crying desperately, right past the befuddled suitor, George Banks.

Together, they ran out the door, out the manor lawns, and onto the sidewalk, where Cynthia hugged Bert tightly, and cried into him.

"Oh, oh, Bert, what shall we do? She blew up, she'll never want to see me again!"

"We'll leave," explained Bert. "We'll go to America, or some other far away place where we'll never have to see them again. But we can't tell anyone we're married, because I fear they'll track us down and try to keep us here, and take you away from me. Tear us apart."

"Oh, God, Bert! That can't happen! That won't happen!"

"We'll buy some cheap tickets on a ship, we'll make a life for ourselves, together, always."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful, Bert! Simply wonderful!" exclaimed Cynthia. And they walked side-by-side, on their way to the dock, where they'd leave their troubles forever.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Dunstham was making a telephone call to the police, filing a kidnap case, explaining to them that her young, youthful daughter had been stolen away by a mysterious, dark-haired, dirty man, while she, Mrs. Dunstham, hid in a closet, watching the ordeal play out. The police immediately got on the case.

By then, Bert and Cynthia had visited the docks and bought two low-priced tickets for a large passenger ship that was leaving at nine-thirty that night. Meanwhile, they had much time to kill, so they spent part of the day traveling through London, for the last time, but for the first time as man and wife.

"Did you see the man they brought to meet me? _Miiiister George Banks_!" giggled the young girl. "Certainly not the type of man I'm interested in."

"I'm glad," replied Bert, gleaming.

"So stuffy, obviously shy! Dear thing! And can you believe my parents thought him a match for me! Shows how little they understand me!"

"At least we have a happy ending."

"Ending?" she questioned. "Oh, Bert, darling, this is no ending! It's a beginning, a new beginning for you and me… a happy beginning. I love you Bert."

"I love you, too, Cynthia."

"How many children do you want?" she suddenly asked.

"Children!" replied a startled Bert. "Well, um, how many do you want?"

"A whole houseful!" she cried. Bert gave a quiet chuckle. "Of course," she continued, "we could go the unadventurous route and have two, or three, but I want a lot!"

Bert gulped. "Whatever you say, dear."

As they chattered along the way, the sky began to darken and Cynthia suddenly got an idea.

"Bert, let's make a kite!"

"A kite? But Cynthia, there's no wind tonight…"

"Nevertheless, I want to do this with you!"

"Okay…" said Bert slowly. "Why not!"

Cynthia smiled with delight. "So, what do we need?"

"Well," he began, "we'll need some newspapers, and some paste, and some sticks, and some string."

"Then, come on!" and she took her husband's arm and they ran off, through shops, and newsstands, gathering their supplies. They went to a local park, where they combined their ingredients and formed their kite. It ended up being a bland triangular newspaper tied to a string, but Cynthia found it absolutely lovely.

"Just look at it, Bert!" she smiled, proud of herself and her husband's achievement.

"It's missing something," he said, studying the toy. He saw then, across the sidewalk, a crushed glass. "Aha! The missing piece!" and he glued the shards on the front and back of the kite.

"Oh, if only we could see it up there in the skies!" said Cynthia, with less disappointment than glee.

"Hmm…" muttered Bert to himself. He thought, deep into his old self, the self from a year ago, and thought of the little bit of magic he had learned. Maybe he could summon some of it up, right now, for his love. Just maybe. At the very least he could try.

"Here, Cynthia, I'm going to take a running start." At that point Mrs. Burlington watched as her husband was about to make a fool out of his self. But somehow, with an odd sort of movement… he let go of the kite and it went up in the air, and amazingly, it stayed up there. Cynthia bounded up to her husband, clapping her hands.

"Oh, Bert! That's amazing, how did you do it?"

"Oh, just a lil bit o' magic," he said, cockily and cockneyly, as his wife kissed him on the cheek.

The newlywed couple watched their kite in the sky for a few hours, as the beauty of it was astounding. It was like the biggest jewel in the sky, rivaling even the Moon.

"Bert, it's beautiful, just beautiful."

"Like you."

They thought the park was deserted, but they were surprised by a visit of an old friend of Bert's, a tall girl named Mary, who left as quickly as she came. They left not long after her, when they realized that they needed to be on the ship. They wouldn't have to bother with any luggage, admittedly, they were ill-prepared. But, as it would turn out, they wouldn't have to would about preparedness.

As they were leaving out of the park gates they were ambushed from behind, where police had been hiding, after they had, by pure chance, spotted the couple walking up from the park sidewalk.

They pushed Cynthia to the side, face-first on the cold hard ground, not even taking into account that she was in no danger, and obviously in romance. When other officers noted that she was unconscious, they took her in their arms and put her into a stagecoach.

"Cynthia! Cynthia!" called Bert, struggling from the policemen's grasps. However, he only made himself more vulnerable, and he was handcuffed, and he too was put in a _different_ stagecoach, that would take him to the city jail.

Bert couldn't believe the phase of events. One minute in love, one minute in rage, one minute of romance, and now utter sorrow… But Cynthia wouldn't leave him in here, for the week he was sentenced. She'd find a way to get him out. Wouldn't she?

That night, however, a confused little girl woke up in her old bedroom in her parents' home, faced with two strange, but oddly familiar faces staring at her.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Oh, my _Winifred_ you're awake!" exclaimed the short woman with brown hair.

"Who… who are you?"

"Why, Winifred, I'm your mother! And this young man, right here, is George Banks, _your fiancé_."

"Winifred! Thank God you're fine! We were so worried…" stated the boyfriend.

"Oh, Winifred… That's my name?"

"Yes, dear, of course," her mother answered.

"What… what happened?"

"You were kidnapped," Mrs. Dunstham began, "by a wretched man… A desperate chimney-sweep with little money, at the end of his line. He was going to hold you up for ransom, but thankfully the police officers found you before he could take advantage of you."

"My heavens!" exclaimed Winifred Dunstham. "But why can't I remember any of this? And why do I have such a dreadful headache?"

"Because as you were being rescued, the man threw you to the floor… We weren't sure we'd get you back! Oh, dear, I'm so happy!" Mrs. Dunstham exclaimed, hugging her daughter.

"I think I understand everything… I think. But who's that chap over there?" She was pointing at a middle-aged, balding man, hiding in the corner of the room, for some reason unbeknownst to her.

"Oh, why that's your father."

"Yes… Winifred," he said, with the sound of great sorrow in his voice, "I _am_ your father." He seemed like he was at the point of tears.

"I'm so happy to be back," and with that Winifred Cynthia Dunstham closed out a chapter of her life, but a chapter of her life that had been completely rewritten by her so-called "family". Meanwhile, her once-beloved husband, from a marriage that had been quickly annulled, rotted alone in his jail cell, wondering if anyone out there cared about him.

Within a week, Bert was thrown out onto the streets, now with a prison record, and the title "Scum-Bag". He wandered around, but finally found the gumption to visit his former in-laws' manor. But he wouldn't go past the gates. The reason, being, that he was now witness to a very, pretty white wedding, being held in a backyard, although completely visible from the front. He shook his head in disbelief, finding it amazing that the very love of his life could forget so easily of him, and marry someone else. Someone else who she had mocked only a week before.

As he was leaving, he caught the cold glance of Mrs. Dunstham. She didn't do anything, just stared at him, with pure hatred emanating from her stonish eyes. He slowly turned around, realizing Cynthia was no longer his, and walked away from love.

In the end, he found himself walking to the bars of London, where he would drink… and be merry. One night, his drunken stupor became too much for the owner of the bar, and threw poor Bert out onto the alley. He sat on the sidewalk, talking to himself, telling stories of his past love… It was then that another stagecoach came trotting down the road, but this stagecoach brought with it the winds of change. Very good changes for Bert, _and_ for one of the people riding inside.


	7. Feed the Birds

**Just a few more chapters and this is done! I plan, however, to make a sequel, or rather, a midquel that takes place during the events of "Mary Poppins" the movie. Also, this chapter, and the following chapters will contain music that was in the original movie, so of course, that credited goes to the wonderful songwriting team of The Sherman Brothers. Anyway, here's the next chapter!**

**CHAPTER SEVEN: FEED THE BIRDS **

"Rise and shine, dearie! Wake up!"

The nanny was violently awakened from her pleasurable sleep. "What! What!" she said, startled. "Maid?"

Maid was the name everyone in the Wells household called Persimmon Reynolds, a middle aged woman with bright, red hair. As usual, she was dressed in a blue skirt with a short, white apron. Mary loved her sense of humor, but it certainly wasn't acceptable that she would wake her up in such a dreadful manner.

"Maid!" she complained. "I've never been so rudely treated! Why did you do that?"

"Oh, Miss Poppins, there's no use chastising me like a babe," Persimmon said. "The master told me to do it."

"The master?" Mary asked, with a sort of fear, plain in her voice. "Mr. Wells?"

"Yes, he wants you dressed and then he wants you to want in the parlor until he has finished his breakfast."

"Oh dear! I don't suppose you know why this is happening, do you Maid?"

Persimmon Reynolds just stared into Mary's face. "I'm sorry, dear," she said, and walked off.

Mary Poppins was beside herself with the news. What had happened? What could Mr. Wells want with her? When dressing herself, she tried to remember anything she had done… Had she given the children any sweets? Well, there was that one visit to Mrs. Corry's, but it wasn't long, and they hadn't seen much. She hadn't hurt the children… Well, one crab pinched the little boy on the beach, but the crab had said he was sorry.

Oh what could she have done!

Mary looked at the mirror. "Practically perfect, as always." She put on a brave face, and puffed out a breath of air. She patted down her hair, situated the hat atop her head, and grabbed the carpet bag that held all her belongings. "I'm ready."

Calmly, Mary walked down the carpeted staircase, the same staircase that she and the children had so much fun sliding _up_ on. Her mother said that respectable women in high society don't slide, but it was a trick she had managed to learn when she was just a child, and she liked teaching it to the children, because it brought back some of the happier memories of her youth.

Mary took a seat on the burgundy couch, and quietly sat. She didn't know what to do, or to think. She was terrified. Was she to be fired?

Suddenly the door linking to the dining room burst open. In came the Respectable Mr. Wells, dressed in his finest, with his shiny black hair slicked back. "Miss Mary Poppins, I've to speak with you."

"Yes, sir," said Mary, bracing herself.

He took a seat beside her, and began to speak, in a quiet, but stern tone, "My children have told me some very interesting stories, Miss Poppins."

"Interesting?" That was not a good word.

"Extremely. Stories about talking cows and cats, and fantastic place, like space."

"Well, sir, if you mind me asking, what's wrong with that?" Mary asked, timidly.

"What's wrong with that!" Mr. Wells seemed hysterical. "Nothing, of course!"

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," he continued, "as long as they don't believe it's an absolute truth. Why, it's lunacy!"

"But they are children, they believe in magic and fantastic things…" Mary was tightly clutching her bag.

"Magic? Fantastic things? It's real to them! They talk of flying up staircases, participating in wild fox races, all sorts of crazy things… It's ridiculous!"

"Well, I'm sorry, sir…" "And then there's that word!" he interjected.

"What word?"

"Superflabbyexpialinauseous! It's vulgarity!"

Mary Poppins was shocked. _That _word, that he had so completely mispronounced beyond recognition, was special to her. "Vulgarity, sir! I'd never…"

"You're dismissed of your position here, Miss Poppins," Mr. Wells said quickly before Mary could make her peace.

"Dismissed? You mean fired?" she asked, bewildered. The revelation still hadn't quite hit her and she asked, "May I, may I see the children?"

"No."

"No?" she protested. "But, sir, I love them like they were my own… I'd never hurt them, purposefully… Just once…" Mary stood up, heading for the staircase.

"No, Miss Poppins, I don't wish you to distract the children whilst there packing for their trip."

"Trip? Where are they being taken?"

"To a boarding school, Wright-Dobie in Scotland… It's run by two very nice women, and we expect to be pleased by their schooling there."

"A boarding school? All the way in Scotland? Sir… I… I…" Mary was obviously shaken, stuttering. "I didn't harm them, I didn't mean to, if you think I did…"

"I ask that you don't linger about long. Just collect your things, and then, please leave," Mr. Wells explained to her.

Mary stood up, frozen, for a second but then, as if hypnotized, said, "No, that's alright, sir… I have everything I need in my bag," holding up the tote fashioned of carpet.

"That one bag?" Mr. Wells asked, clearly puzzled. Mary nodded yes. "The mystery continues."

Mary walked to the front hall, where the front entrance was, not far from the parlor, and opened the door. It was raining outside, very hard. "Good bye," Mary called out, one last time. There was no answer.

Alone, she walked out in the pouring rain, onto the sidewalk, becoming completely drenched, forgetting she had an umbrella at his disposal, which she held with both hands at her waist.

Mary walked all the way, just like this, in a solemn, mournful attitude, to her mother's house, Number Thirteen on Victoria Street. Along her journey, some people stared in amusement at the silly girl as they rode, warm and dry in their horse and buggy carriages. No one stopped to help her, however, but then again, Mary would have ignored them. She just had one goal now, and a simple one at that. To report to Mrs. Poppins as soon as possible, but she dreaded the thought of it.

After some time, Mary arrived at the manor, and, hesitantly, knocked on the door. To her surprise, the door was unlocked, and the heavy wooden entryway simply opened, by itself. Mary walked in, slightly afraid of what lurked ahead. Maybe her mother already knew? She had the ability to watch over people, really snoop about in a person's private life. What would Mrs. Poppins say when she saw her daughter, soaked in rain water, making the fine matting that covered the floors wet? Mary crossed her fingers and walked into the living room.

Mrs. Poppins reclined in an antique armchair, looking out of her giant glass window at the rainy world. "Good morning, Mary. What brings you here?"

"How did you know it was me?" Mary asked.

"Never mind. Tell me why you've come to visit me. I'm sorry, but you can't try the dress."

The dress! Mary had forgotten all about that, including the ball, which was to be a tool in finding a marriage partner for Mary.

"No," she began, "I don't care about the dress… I'm here to tell you something, something important."

"Oh?" Mrs. Poppins still looked out of the window, not even facing her daughter. "Tell me, Mary. What is it?"

"I was… um, dismissed from my job today."

"Dismissed?" her mother questioned, passively.

"Fired, mother."

Mrs. Poppins remained quiet for a second, and then stood up calmly, and walked towards her daughter, smiling broadly. "You mean, the Wells don't want you anymore as their governess?" she asked, sweetly.

"No… no… They thought I'd harmed them with a few tricks you had taught me, and a few fairy tales… And mother, I really need a hug!" Mary pleaded.

"Then come to your mother, my child," said Mrs. Poppins, arms outstretched wide. "I'll help you understand what's just happened."

"Oh, mother! Thank you!" she replied, rushing over to the woman. "I need you!"

But Mrs. Poppins held Mary by the shoulder, a foot from her body, and her warm smile suddenly turned into a sour grimace.

"What you've done, little girl, is misuse your magic like the childish fool you are!" Mrs. Poppins exclaimed.

"But Mother, they just didn't understand!"

"Idiot! Idiot!" Mrs. Poppins responded, angrily slapping her daughter across the face. Mary fell to the floor beneath her.

"Oh mother! You mustn't do this! Please! Please! Understand!" Mary cried.

"Go," said Mrs. Poppins, gaining her composure. As Mary still withered on the ground, she repeated, "Go."

Mary Poppins walked back to the door, holding her things. She was sobbing very hard, but she managed to say, "Good bye." This time she managed to receive an answer, "Never come here again. I've no daughter, no children at tall."

Mary Poppins walked outside where it was still raining. This second heartbreak was more real than the last, as this had happened before, and as Mary should have realized, it was only bound to happen to her at one time. So now she had enough sense to open her umbrella, and she walked down the street, crying.

"Mary?" pried the parrot. "Are you okay, dear?"

"You heard it all, didn't you?"

"Mmhmm," he answered. "That's a lot of bad news to take in in one morning."

"I do wish it wasn't raining so, for I wish to stay up in the clouds all day… In fact for all of eternity!" Mary related, ignoring the umbrella handle's question.

"Too dangerous to do right now."

"I know! My God, I'm not imbecile!" roared Mary.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, dear." He paused. "I'll stay quiet."

"Thank you. I was just planning to visit Uncle Albert, and ask him if he'd left me stay there for the time being."

The parrot kept his promise, which Mary was very glad of, and she remained silent, and dry, her entire way to her boisterous Uncle's abode.

Once again, Mary banged the knocker, but this time she knew she was in for warm company. The door was quickly opened by a chuckling, tubby, balding man.

"Mary! Mary Poppins!" he was delighted to see her, but then he noticed her red eyes, and ushered her in. Mary was very grateful, and Uncle Albert was very interested to hear her story. Feeling compassion for his niece, he offered her a bed and a house for as long as she needed, and Mary promised she wouldn't stay long, even though her uncle would have been very happy to let her stay forever. In the meantime, Mary took up the housecleaning for Uncle Albert, teaching him a new song to make it speedier for him when she would eventually leave.

By the end of her first week with Albert, Mary was desperate to leave the house and go looking for a job. Finally, a crisp, clean day came and she left the house, looking for a new assignment as a governess. Sadly, she found that word of her exploits had gotten out to the others, and she found no one wanted her. After leaving her very last house for the day, she noticed a wedding was going on in the backyard of the house beside it. From what she saw the ceremony was very beautiful, and it gave her the stamina to spend another week searching for jobs.

The next week Mary left from her very last appointment with no job yet to speak of, and she decided to call it quits. Tonight she'd go home, pack things up, and leave for somewhere else, where her name wasn't tainted and she could actually be employed. She decided she wanted to visit one last place, Saint Paul's Cathedral, where she had gone many times in the past for strength and guidance.

She took a seat on the church steps and began to observe a little old bird woman, who she had watched many times before. She noticed the woman, calling out "Come feed the birds! Tuppence a bag!", and how some would just ignore and go there own way, ignoring the old lady, while others would be generous and donate, and give. Mary was truly inspired, and grabbed a pen and piece of paper from her coat pocket and wrote this poem down:

"_Early each day to the steps of Saint Paul's  
__The little old bird woman her own special way to the people she calls,  
__"Come, buy my bags full of feed the little birds, show them you care  
And you'll be glad if you young ones are hungry,  
Their nests are so bare;  
All it takes is tuppence from you.  
"Feed the birds, tuppence a bag,  
Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag.  
"Feed the birds," that's what she cries,  
While overhead, her birds fill the skies  
__Around the cathedral the saints and apostles  
Look down as she sells her wares you can't see it,  
But you know they are smiling  
Each time someone shows that he cares,  
Although her words are simple and few,  
Listen, listen, she's calling to you:  
"Feed the birds, tuppence a bag,  
Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag."_

Mary Poppins felt a little teary-eyed, and got up from her seat. The church bells ringed seven times.

"A reminder," Mary said, and as she walked down the steps, she too purchased a bag of crumbs from the bird woman, and fed the birds.

Mary rode, content, in a little carriage, back home to Uncle Albert's. They went down into the slums of London along their ride and Mary peered out her window. When she saw the image of an obviously drunk young man, at the side of the road, crying to himself, Mary asked the driver to stop the taxi, so she could come out and help the young man.

"Fine with me, miss!" he said.

Mary stepped out and approached the young man. "Sir, could I help you?"

"Help me!" he asked, as if it was ludicrous. "Nobody can help me, but myself!"

"Bert!?!" exclaimed Mary Poppins in surprise. She knew her usually sober brother's voice quite well. "What happened to you?"

"Mary? My sister! That's you?" Bert replied.

Mary took a seat beside him. "What's wrong? Did something bad happen?"

"Well, obviously! Really, Mary, sometimes you ask the most ignorant questions!"

"Sorry," his sibling said sheepishly. "Now tell me what's the matter." "A week ago my wife left me."

"Your wife? You don't mean the woman I met in the park with you, do you?" Bert shook his head. "That was her, my beautiful Cynthia. We were married that morning."

"Why'd she leave?"

"Brainwashed, or something! How am I to know!"

Mary sighed at her brother's stubbornness. "Well, you know you're not the only one who's having a bad time."

"Oh really?" he said, incredulously. "Everything's not perfect with the Wicked Witch?"

"She kicked me out, I don't have a job, and I'm living with Uncle Albert."

"Oh." Bert seemed to understand.

"Well, look what you have done Albert Poppins!" Mary exclaimed. "You made both us terribly depressed."

"Sorry," Bert told her.

"Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay," Mary began to mumble. Bert joined along, "Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay."

Bert continued, slowly and cautiously,

"_Because I was afraid to speak  
When I was just a lad  
My father gave me nose a tweak  
And told me I was bad  
But then one day I learned a word  
__That saved me aching nose  
The biggest word I ever heard  
And this is how it goes:"_

Then Mary joined back in,

_"Oh, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!  
Even though the sound of it  
Is something quite atrocious  
If you say it loud enough  
You'll always sound precocious  
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!"_

The brother and sister tumbled into each other laughing.

"You taught me that song when Mother had scared me," Mary said to Bert. "I still love it." Bert smiled. "Why don't you come home with me to Uncle Albert's, I can help you."

"Really, Mary? Would you?"

"It would be a pleasure."

"Then yes! Yes!" Bert shouted, ecstatic.

The two walked back in the carriage, where they held each other's hand, when Mary said one last thing, "Bert, I promise to stay by your side."


	8. Step in Time

**I feel bad that I haven't updated in so long. It's not because I haven't had plenty of time, I think I was just procrastinating. But I always try to get back on track, and so here I am again. ******** I promise the next chapter will come out much faster! And it shall be the last one, too! **

**CHAPTER EIGHT: **

**STEPPING TIME**

"Isn't it bootiful, Mary?" said Bert, pulling the young lady onto the top of a roof.

"Why, Bert, yes it is." In fact, Mary was stunned. It was just before sundown and her chimney sweep brother had taken her to his world. His new world... the one Mary had given him.

Mary took a step back, in an attempt to breathe in the atmosphere... Unfortunately, she nearly toppled over to the ground, but her sibling's friendly hand saved.

"Oh! Oh! Thank you, Bert!" she exclaimed, trying to get her breath back.

"You know, Mary, anyone looking at you would have no idea you were so clumsy," her brother said.

"Bert- what a charmer you are!" Mary exclaimed. She looked down. "But you're right you know. I could never be a lady with these two left feet. Thank God I've stopped trying!" Mary laughed.

Bert studied his sister's face. A beautiful girl, she was. And she would never learn to acknowledge it.

"Here, Bert," she suddenly interjected, grabbing a crumpled piece of notebook paper from her coat. "It's for you. You've told me so many stories about up here. It's been stuck in my head. I hope you like, Bert."

The sweep took the poem, and began to read it. It went,

_Chim chiminey_

_Chim chiminey_

_Chim chim cher-ee!_

_A sweep is as lucky_

_As lucky can be_

_Chim chiminey_

_Chim chiminey_

_Chim chim cher-oo!_

_Good luck will rub off when_

_He shakes hands with you_

_Now as the ladder of life_

_Has been strung_

_You may think a sweep's_

_On the bottommost rung_

_Though he spends his time_

_In the ashes and soot_

_In this whole wide world_

_There's no happier bloke_

_Up where the smoke is_

_All billowed and curled_

_Between pavement and stars_

_Is the chimney sweep world_

_When there's hardly no day_

_And hardly no night_

_There are things half in shadow_

_And half way in light_

_On the roof tops of London_

_Oh, what a sight!_

_He chooses his bristles with pride_

_Yes, he does_

_A broom for the shaft_

_And a broom for the flume_

_Though he's covered with soot_

_From his head to his toes_

_A sweep knows he's welcome_

_Wherever he goes_

_Chim chiminey_

_Chim chiminey_

_Chim chim cher-ee!_

_When you're with a sweep_

_You're in glad company_

_No where is there_

_A happier crew_

_Than those who sing_

_"Chim chim cher-ee_

_Chim cher-oo!"_

"What a true gift you have, Mary," he complimented her. "Really splendid."

"It's a thank-you, Bert," she said. "I always thought we were close, and we were... but now... we're so much closer."

"Oh, Mary Poppins!" he shouted. "What have I got to do with that? You've been the one to take care of me, the one who's stalled herself, just to help another!"  
"Bert, stop," Mary took her gloved hand to his mouth. "Just take the accolade."  
"Why can't you take mine?"

Mary was silent. Why would anyone really want to compliment her? She was nothing, really. Nothing at all.

_SLAM! _

"Heavens! What was that?" asked Mary. It couldn't be Uncle Albert. He had already gone to bed.

Mary and Bert rushed down the stairs to the backdoor, to walk into the apartment. There waiting at the entrance was Mrs. Poppins, the old witch herself.

"Mother!" said Mary.

"Oh, my darling!" cried the tall woman, taking her arms out to embrace the girl. "How I've missed you! I'm really sorry, dear!"

"But it's been months...? What are you doing here- I don't want you back!"

Mrs. Poppins looked genuinely hurt, placing her long-finger nailed hand over her heart. She seemed rather well-dressed.

"Well, tell us what you're doing here!" demanded Mary.

"To ask of your forgiveness, dear...," her eyes moved off to the side, "and to rescue you from this..."

Mary was surprised. Her mother wanted to take her back. She had indeed begun to miss her, and her training as a witch had gone nowhere. Maybe... if her mother accepted her now, they could start anew, and better.

"Why, look Mary," she continued, "at the riff-raff by your side right now." Her mother was of course speaking of Albert or, _Bert_ now. And he had yet to utter a word. Until now.

"Mother, it's me... Albert."

Mrs. Poppins seemed to laugh at the absurdity. "That's impossible. I've no son. I've but a daughter, one whom I'm planning to take to a ball tonight."

"A ball?" Mary was shocked. She had forgotten all about the silly little dance, and enticed her not at all. "I can't go Mother. I thank you for coming... but I'm sorry. No."  
"No?" Mrs. Poppins didn't look like she was going to quit. But Mary was determined to hold firm. But then she did it. She reached into her carpet bag and pulled out a beautiful white box, tied with a big pink bow. Mary's eyes became the size of saucers.

"It's the dress, isn't it? That lovely dress!" Mary, in excitement, grabbed for it, rushing past Bert. She was going to look pretty, very pretty tonight at the ball.

"Oh good, dear, I'm so glad you're excited now! Now, put it on, and then we'll take a ride in the carriage to Catherine's Hall, where the dance is being held. Spit-spot, now dear!"

Without a second thought, Mary went into her tiny bedroom provided by Uncle Albert, and rushed the dress on. What a lady she appeared! Very thin, very svelte! Her head looked a little obtuse, but she could forgive that, for the beauty of the garment.

She struggled to get down the stairs in the slip of a dress, but managed it, to wild applause from her mother. "Now come dear," she said. "We're already a bit too late."

Mary Poppins would have ran out that door, had she deemed it lady-like, but she took her time. She told Bert, "Please, tell Uncle Albert when he awakes of where I am. I don't want him to worry."  
Bert looked a tad sick. Mary wondered why. But he said, "Yes, sister, of course. Have a good time."

First, Mary walked out, and then Mrs. Poppins who exited in a very pompous manner. Mary didn't notice. Her head was too far into the clouds for her to care. Tonight, she was going to be gorgeous, the belle of the ball, even!

For once, Mary was going to do something for herself.


	9. Au Revoir

**Well, here we are at the last chapter! Thanks to all my readers and reviewers- I hope you enjoy it! **

**CHAPTER NINE: **

**AU REVOIR **

Mary hadn't had time to think... She saw the dress, she saw the glamour- she needed just a little time alone. A change of scenery.

What Mrs. Poppins had brought was exactly that- it was not just a frilly dress and an invitation to a party. It was freedom and liberty!

Freedom. Liberty. Lib-er-ty. Lib-ert. Lib... Bert. Bert. Bert. Bert!

How could she have forgotten about Bert! Her poor brother, all alone, probably wounded from Mrs. Poppins's harsh words. Mary felt so awful then that if she could have stopped the coach, she would have.

But she didn't have to.

"Neigggh!"

The driver relinquished his perch and examined his animal. It was injured, and would have to be taken to a veterinarian, as soon as possible- lest it die.

Once the two women had gotten out, Mrs. Poppins complained, "How completely inconveniencing!"

"So sorry, madam," the driver apologized, "but the Catherine's is only but a few hops away. You see that alley there?" he pointed. "Just go through it and on the other end you'll see Catherine's Hall, all lit up for the night." He then went off with his horse.

"The absolute nerve of that man! Leaving two ladies alone to venture into some dark place- in their finery no less!"  
"Well... he had to, Mother. Otherwise, his poor horse might have died."

"Rubbish. It would have survived a few more minutes.

Mary was slightly aghast at her mother's callousness, if a bit reminiscent. Nevertheless, she said not a word, the strong courageous Mary at Uncle Albert's was not here. This was the Mary that wanted to please her mother, the one eager to reach Catherine's Hall.

***

Through the awkward silence, Mary was able to see another side of life- that of poverty, of grief and tears. She knew of the old birdwoman, the lady she had wrote the poem about, but she seemed so good and so noble. These people may very well be good, but they certainly did not possess the birdwoman's nobility and pride.

A little anxious, Mary tried to strike up a conversation.

"Mother... I meant to ask, during the ride... but, well... Are there any other reasons you asked me along tonight?"

"Because," Mrs. Poppins said carefully, after a few seconds thought, "because I think you've learned your lesson. Upper class is where you and I both belong. Sure we had bumps in the road, but with my guidance- we'll make it."

Mary Poppins stopped in her tracks.

"Pardon? Mother, forgive me for being crass, but the only lesson I have learned in my time away from you is to love the simpler things in life. The lower-class life."  
"Really? Is that so?" she questioned. "The expression on your face when I arrived earlier this afternoon with the dress and the carriage certainly didn't imply that."

Mary couldn't answer back. She was right. The simple things in life could be wonderful- if you could learn to appreciate them. And Mary thought she had been. But the way she gobbled up Mrs. Poppins's gifts... There's no way. She could no longer deny it. She liked extravagance. She wanted extravagance.

Sensing the silence, Mrs. Poppins added, "But you know, there's nothing wrong with that. It's really a great thing, my darling."

My darling. Ewww.... Mary shivered at the use of the word. Her mother had never in her life called her that. But life seemed brighter now, just by a little bit. Maybe she'd grow to the title.

That was ridiculous! This adventure was a one night thing. After this she would be gone, she would go back to Bert and Uncle Albert. They'll be happy, right?

Maybe not.

Right then, a young woman, just about Mary's age, called to the couple. They were just a few feet away from the corner.

"Misses! A penny'd be appreciated if you've got one ta spare!" said the girl slouched next to the wall.

Mary, very happy to comply and to help the poor creature, searched herself for her purse, but realized she wasn't carrying one. Of course she wasn't, the way she rushed out of the house moments earlier. Surely, however, Mrs. Poppins had some change on her person.

"Mother," she asked quietly, "have you any money to give to this girl?"  
Mrs. Poppins raised her high head even higher. "Of course I do," she replied. "But I'm not just giving it away."

The flowergirl didn't seem too phased, afterall, she had gone through the same scenario plenty of times, and by now her skin was quite thick. But Mary Poppins, on the other hand, was simply infuriated.

Now they were in view of their destination- Catherine's Hall, where the elite were already partying, and chatting, and drinking. Mary and Mrs. Poppins would arrive just in time to be fashionably late.

Mary was still focused on the flowergirl.

"How could you do a thing like that?" she demanded.

"It wouldn't have been sensible to have given the girl any money. She would have spent it on liquor." She said "liquor", with a high-pitched tone of obvious disapproval.

"You don't know that!"

"Well, she's in her place for a reason, is she not? We're in our place for a reason, too..." then she stopped.

"Me, Mother? Say it. It's all my fault, it's still my fault. Your opinion of me hasn't changed since the day father left us."  
Mrs. Poppins was stunned. "How dare you say that, Mary Poppins! I loved you... I always did."

For a moment, Mary said nothing, momentarily feeling for her mother. "I believe that... I do. But it's time I really do something for myself now. Doing this- this isn't it. It's not my path. I don't know what my path is- For heaven's sakes, I don't yet know who I am. But it's time I learned. Au revoir, Mother."

"Good bye, my little Mary."

And she never saw Mrs. Poppins again.

***

Mary Poppins ran all the way back to Uncle Albert's home, filled with new strength and determination. She was going to speak to Bert, tell him she loved him, but that now... she needed to go.

Bert was waiting for her on the doorstep.

"Mary, you're back early!" he said, delighted. "Did you not go."

Completely out of breath, Mary just shook her head "no". After a few minutes of huffing and puffing (and groaning over how the dress had been ripped), Mary was finally able to speak.

"Bert," she said. "There is something I must tell you. Something you must try and understand."

Bert nodded his head. He knew Mary had something tragic to say, and he already knew it.

"I think you've gotten back on your feet. I think you're ready to start life off, by yourself. Me, I haven't gotten to experience that... so I think it's time..."

"To go?" Bert asked, sadly. "I understand, Mary. I do. It would be selfish of me to keep you here any longer. It's the least I can do."

"Oh, Bert! I'm so happy you feel that way!" Mary tightly squeezed her sibling. "I should go tonight, but I'd like to say good-bye to Uncle Albert first."

"I'll wake him for you," Bert said. "But first you really should get out of that dress, and maybe pack some things."

"Of course, you're right! Of course!"

Mary scurried off to her small little bedroom and found a gray little petticoat that she looked stunning in. She placed a nice hat with some floral decoration on her head, and then she took every item in her room and crammed it into her carpet bag. And of course, she couldn't forget her umbrella.

***

"Mary, my dear, are you sure you want to do this? You don't really no where you're going, do you?" asked Uncle Albert once Mary Poppins had gotten to the doorstep.

"No, sir. But that's the beauty of it. Everywhere I go, I will learn something new, making me all the better for it!"  
"Well, then best of luck to you!" he smiled and laughed.

"Don't do that," Mary said sternly, Uncle Albert was slightly afraid. Then she smiled and said, "I'm just kidding, Uncle Albert!" He tried his hardest to contain his giggles.

Mary moved over to her brother. "Bert," she said, hugging him, "I'll miss you very much!"  
"I'll miss you, too, Mary. Please come back soon."

"Oh, I swear it! And we'll have all kinds of adventures together!" she exclaimed.

"Good." Bert smiled.

There was a pause, everyone drinking in the moment, too fearful that it may never be that way again. Mary Poppins was the first to break the silence, never one for long good-byes.

"I shall go now." And away she flew through the dark London sky, waving, until she was above the clouds, at her family.

"So, Mary Poppins, where are we off to?" asked her parrot-friend.

"I don't know and I really don't give a damn about specifications right now."

"Mary Poppins, watch you language!"

"Oh, really! I'm not in the mood! Now, would you please do me a favor for the remainder of this trip and just shut your f-"

"_SQUAWK!_"


End file.
